


291. crawl space

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [227]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9669974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: “Helena,” Sarah says, voice tired, “get the hell out of the trunk.”Helena does. Her legs wobble under her a little bit when she goes. There’s sweat cooling all over her body; she must have been panicking, in the trunk, but she doesn’t remember at all. Her brain went far far away – and it worked, because the world outside the trunk is bright and cold and has Sarah in it. So everything worked out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [warning: dissociation]

The trunk of Sarah’s car is very small. Helena’s mind has gotten slow, which means bad things; it means her brain has panicked so much that it’s quit everything, gone too slow to think from all that panic. She was in a cage, and that was terrible, but the trunk is smaller. She is curled up tight. If she lets her mind go, minutes vanish into hungry mouths. Time skips. Sarah’s car starts and stops and turns and when Helena lets herself think she hears her voice calling _Sarah, Sarah,_ hoarse and panicked. So she leaves again. Her brain curls up tighter than her body. The world is dark padding.

 

 

 

 

—riously,” says Sarah’s voice, “get the hell up.” Helena blinks, rolls over. The trunk is open. Sarah is standing over the car, face tight. The streetlight behind her haloes her and Helena is calm, instantly, like a miracle. She rolls over all the way and smiles – she can’t help it.

“Sarah,” she says.

“Christ,” Sarah breathes. She runs a frantic hand through her hair. “Thought you’d – died back here, don’t do that.” Her voice is shaky. She looks shaky. Shaken. Someone shook her, and Helena doesn’t know who.

“Are you alright?” she says.

“Helena,” Sarah says, voice tired, “get the hell out of the trunk.”

Helena does. Her legs wobble under her a little bit when she goes. There’s sweat cooling all over her body; she must have been panicking, in the trunk, but she doesn’t remember at all. Her brain went far far away – and it worked, because the world outside the trunk is bright and cold and has Sarah in it. So everything worked out.

“This is a nice house,” she says, staring at the brick in front of her. Sarah doesn’t answer. She grabs Helena by the arm (she grabs Helena by the arm!) and starts dragging her inside. The house is even nicer inside; there’s wood, it smells like sweet leaves, there are pictures of Kira on the wall. Helena tries to slow down to look at them but Sarah is dragging her towards the door.

Behind her, someone inhales sharply. Helena twists in Sarah’s grip to see – oh, a woman. She looks like this house. Her hair is red. She stares at Helena; Helena stares at her. She doesn’t know whether or not to smile. She doesn’t know who this is.

“Blow me down,” says the woman in an accent that’s almost-but-not-quite like Sarah’s.

“Don’t, S,” Sarah says. “You got the ties or what.”

The response: a handful of brandished zipties. The woman named S glares at Helena like Helena is a monster, and Helena is glad she decided not to smile. She twists a little bit to look at Sarah. Sarah is staring at Helena like Helena is something very sad, which is better than the way S is looking at Helena but not by much. Helena doesn’t want Sarah to be sad.

“You don’t have to tie me,” she says helpfully, as Sarah leads her down a set of creaking stairs out of the nice house and into a dark basement. “I will be good.”

“Yeah, right,” Sarah scoffs. “Not takin’ our chances.” She steers Helena over to a pole and Helena realizes that they’re going to leave her there. On the floor, in the dirt, in the dark.

“Sarah _please_ ,” she says. “I promise. Can I sit in the nice house.”

“No,” Sarah says. Her voice shakes again. She has earthquakes in her, doesn’t she. Helena does too. She could show Sarah, if Sarah would let her – but Sarah is shoving her down to the ground, standing over her. Helena tilts her head back to look. This must be what love is: when you are on the ground, your back to the wall and someone else standing over you. How could it be anything else, when the light keeps making haloes on Sarah’s hair like that?

“Don’t move,” Sarah says, and crouches down. A knife presses cold against Helena’s wrists and then Helena’s wrists are free and she could reach out and hold Sarah again, she could do it right now, she could hold her—

But more ties are on her wrists and she is trapped against the pole. She leans back, sighs. “Sarah,” she says. “Why did you bring me to this place?”

Sarah doesn’t answer. Behind her S is standing with her arms folded across her chest, looking miserable. Sarah also looks miserable. Helena isn’t miserable, because Sarah is right there.

“Leave her there,” S says. “Come on, let’s go back up.”

“Sarah,” Helena says.

“We have to tell her,” Sarah says, face flat and pale. “Yeah? We – we’ve got to tell her.”

“What,” Helena says. “Sarah, what, I want to know.”

“We can discuss this upstairs,” says S. “Come on.”

Sarah shakes her head, biting her lip. She looks so sad. Helena wishes she didn’t look so sad.

“Will you come back?” she says.

“I,” Sarah says, and shakes her head again. Then she turns away from Helena and follows S back up the stairs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you enjoyed! :)


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